


A Gentleman and a Scholar

by oratorio



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, First Time, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: Olivia Ryder is scared.  600 years of cryo-sleep beckons, and what if she never wakes up?  There's so much she wants to do before she dies.  And she doesn't want to die a virgin, "Daddy's little girl".Dr Harry Carlyle has gentle hands and a kind and unflappable personality.  Liv trusts him with her life, and now she wants to trust him with her virginity, too.  Fortunately, Harry is happy to oblige.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in my Liv Ryder series, but the only story which will feature Harry Carlyle. Sorry if that disappoints Harry fans, but at least there is this, right?
> 
> Edit to say: thank you all for your lovely comments and support. You may be pleased to know I'm currently working on a second chapter :)

“Your father would kill me.”

Harry didn’t know how else to answer the young woman, whose question had caught him entirely off guard.

“I’ve spent 22 years trying to please my father,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “But I’m scared, Harry. I don’t want to die, you know…”

“You’re not going to die,” Harry said. “We’re pioneers. You’re going to go to sleep and wake up in 600 years as if only a minute has passed. I don’t want you to start off your new life with regrets.”

“I won’t regret it. Please, Harry. If you don’t want to…”

Harry sighed. It certainly wasn’t because he didn’t want to. Olivia Ryder - the daughter of the human Pathfinder and a member of the Initiative in her own right - was a lovely young woman. She was also entirely unaware of the effect her wide smile and sparkling grey eyes had on people. It was as if her kind heart and gentle manner was written on the outside of her skin, radiating from her in golden waves that warmed everyone around her. She was quiet, unassuming, and - it turned out - every bit as innocent as she seemed.

_I’ve never…_

Olivia was looking up at him now through her loose, toffee-coloured fringe, her expression one of trepidation. He could see that her hands were shaking in her lap.

“It isn’t that. It’s just, why ask me? Surely you know there are plenty of young men out there who’d think it was their birthday if they could get even a minute of your attention.”

Her cheeks flushed a shade of pink which, he had to admit, was rather attractive. She looked down at her hands and began to twist them together, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. Eventually she spoke, her voice quiet and low.

“I trust you.”

Harry sat down beside her on the low couch that she had perched herself on and reached out to clasp her hands in his.

“Liv. Listen. There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, you know. Even if you have to wait six hundred years. You and I both know that I am not that person.”

“But you are,” she burst out, her eyes suddenly taking on a more intense heat. “You’re the right person for what I need right now. I’m terrified, Harry. I’m doing all this for my dad, not for me, and I can’t help but worry that I’m going to lay myself down in that little pod and never know anything more. I want to make sure I’ve lived the life I had the best I can, just in case. I might never wake up. You know that’s true, so don’t lie to me.”

“But why do you need this? What difference will it make?”

Olivia swiped a hand across her eyes, smearing shimmery trails across her cheek.

“Because I’ve always been daddy’s little girl, Harry. I’ve always been wrapped up and protected and treated like a child. I want to prove to myself that I’m not just that person. I don’t want to die being that same little girl I’ve always been.”

Harry gazed at her earnest face and felt a twinge low in his stomach. He’d wanted to keep saying no, to keep her at arm’s length, but she was so serious and she had clearly thought all of this through. He could tell from the way she sat there quivering that it was costing her dearly to bare her thoughts to him like this… and yet she trusted him. He swallowed.

“Come to my place later, then. About seven?”

Olivia made a noise like a deflating balloon and nodded her head like a robot. “Okay. Okay.”

As he jotted down his address, Harry hoped he had done the right thing.

 

* * *

 

His apartment on the Citadel could be described as “cosy”, he thought, if the person describing it was an estate agent. He’d bought it when he’d separated from his wife and, on a whim, had taken a post as an Alliance-employed doctor based on the station. He’d spent much of his time since then on ships, patching up war wounds and spending time listening to traumatised soldiers describing the horrors of their daily lives. The apartment was, quite simply, a place for him to lay his head when he was off mission. He’d never invited anyone to call on him there, until now.

Harry paced the length of his small, threadbare sheepskin rug in front of the little log burner which heated the entire apartment. His stomach was doing somersaults, and he hadn’t been able to eat since his encounter with Olivia earlier. A voice in his mind was scolding him, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing messing around with a woman young enough to be his daughter. He was torn between feeling like a disgusting pervert, and imagining what she would look like naked and splayed out on his little wooden bed, which inevitably led him back to the first thought in a constant circular self-conversation only interrupted by the chime of the doorbell.

His thoughts seemed to grind to a halt entirely as he opened the door. Olivia stood on the doorstep, her hands knotted together, her face equal parts hopeful and nervous. She had changed her hair - Harry had never seen it in anything other than a neat ponytail, but now it cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders. It was the colour of melted caramel, silky and shiny, and his mouth went dry as he imagined running his hands through it. Her silver-grey eyes were ringed with kohl, and her lips were plump and shiny with pale pink gloss. And she was wearing…

It certainly wasn’t the standard issue uniform for the Initiative, nor was it the practical gear tech specialists wore in the field. His eyes skimmed her body, taking in the expanse of tanned skin, the deep forest green dress which wrapped around her waist, hugging her curves, the long, strong legs in sparkling kitten heels. Harry was speechless, waving one hand to invite her in.

She teetered across his wooden floors in the little heels, clearly not comfortable in them, and sank down on to his sofa with a sigh, accepting the glass of wine he offered her. He was surprised and disappointed to see her glance up at him, a miserable expression clouding her face.

“I feel so stupid,” she said, and sighed. “I’ve tried too hard, and now you’re going to think I’m pathetic.”

“I think you look beautiful,” Harry said, sitting down next to her, careful not to invade her space. “I think you’re far too good for me, and I’m far too lucky to have you here.”

“This isn’t me, though,” she said, and smiled wryly, gesturing at her dress. “I don’t know why I’m pretending. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“Isn’t that the reason you’re here?”

Olivia exhaled a low breath. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You can change your mind at any time, you know.”

“Thank you, Harry. But I won’t.”

Harry smiled at her. “So. What now?”

Olivia blushed and looked down at her knees, brushing an invisible piece of lint from her dress. “I don’t know.”

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

She laughed softly. “Yeah. That I can do.”

“Okay.”

Harry leaned towards her, his nostrils flaring as he picked up scents of freshly washed cotton and coconut shampoo. She even smelled sweet and fresh, he thought, as his mouth met hers. She was hesitant and shy, her lips stuttering mechanically against his until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, his tongue tracing a line against the seam of her lips until she opened for him, allowing him to explore her mouth fully. She expelled sharp, warm breaths through her nose as her eyes fluttered closed and she melted into his kisses, following his lead and beginning to relax into the deep, fluid connection of lips and tongues. When she let out a little moan, Harry felt himself harden in his pants, an almost immediate reaction which took him entirely by surprise. It had been a long time since a woman had affected him in that way. But then, it had been a long time since he had kissed a woman like Olivia Ryder.

He could have kissed her all night. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like strawberry jam and sugar. Each swipe of his tongue against hers brought more whimpering noises, brought her drawing closer and closer to his body, the warmth of her skin heating him up through his heavy clothing. He could feel her breasts pressing softly against the side of his chest, her body melding to his as their kisses became even deeper and more passionate. The ache in his groin was beginning to feel painful, and he could see that she was pressing her thighs together and wriggling against the sagging cushions of the old sofa.

 _Too much_. He broke the kiss and stared into her face, pupils blown wide, panting heavily.

“Harry?” she bit out, her voice reedy.

“Liv,” he said, and gave her a wavering smile. “Bedroom?”

“Yes, please.”

 _Oh, god_. He was the one who was supposed to know what he was doing, here. He was the one who had to make her feel good, had to make this decision of hers the right one.

No pressure.

He stood up and offered her his hand, leading her through to the poky room where he slept. His bed was compact, its oak frame topped by a plush mattress and - he had made sure earlier - clean, pale yellow sheets. They stood beside the bed, looking at each other, Olivia swaying slightly on her feet.

Harry swallowed hard and steeled himself.

“Take your dress off, Liv.”

She looked him full in the face and smiled, a thousand-kilowatt, blinding ray of light. Then she slipped her fingers beneath the thin straps of her dress and slid them off her shoulders, wiggling her hips until the dress pooled in a silky green pile at her feet and she could step out of it.

Underneath, she was wearing only a pair of pale blue lace knickers. Certainly not Initiative-issued, Harry thought. He had no idea where she had managed to find such expensive-looking lingerie on the Citadel. She looked incredible.

“Jesus, Livia,” Harry said, blowing out a hard breath as he gazed at her, taking in her strong, healthy body, her long legs, the flare of her hips, the rounded curve of her breasts tipped with rosy nipples. “You’re unreal.”

She blushed and smiled again, biting her lip nervously as she stood exposed in front of him. He became aware that he was still fully dressed, and began to unbutton his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. When he undid his belt buckle and stepped out of his trousers, he had a sudden urge to cover himself, as his state of arousal was now all too clear. Olivia was staring at the bulge in his briefs with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” He stepped close to her and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. She nodded and pressed a hand to his cheek.

“I’m fine, Harry. Are you?”

“God, I’m more than fine. Way more than fine.”

“Good.”

Harry took Olivia’s hand and drew her down to the bed to sit beside him, leaning in to meet her already kiss-reddened lips with his. The weight of his body against hers pressed them both back against the mattress, their limbs tangling together, never breaking contact. He felt her breasts push up against his torso, the hard beads of her nipples burning spots of heat into his skin. He cupped her cheek with one hand, and she moaned into the kiss, making his cock twitch against her thigh.

Breathless, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. Her normally pale irises were the colour of iron ore, blown wide with emotion, with desire… for him. Harry felt like pinching himself. This all seemed like a dream.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and lost himself in her again. His hand began to trace slow lines down her side, over her hips, cupping her flank. Her skin was pliable and warm, and he felt the throbbing low in his groin intensify as he dragged his fingertips back up the length of her torso, his knuckles bumping against the rounded globe of her breast. She arched her back and whimpered into his mouth as he quested over the soft curve of skin, stroking his thumb over her nipple.

“Beautiful,” he said again, and began to kiss his way down the column of her neck, teeth scraping lightly over her throat, his fingers pinching and stroking her nipple lightly. Olivia made a low, soft moaning sound which made his heart stutter, and he responded by pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against her pulse point. She tasted sun-warmed, a hint of spiced vanilla from her perfume assailing his nostrils. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this aroused.

Harry worked his way down the expanse of her skin, tanned and lightly freckled across her chest, tracing her collarbones with his tongue and alternating wet, languorous kisses with sharp little nips from his teeth. All the while, Olivia whimpered beneath him, her body beginning to wriggle and push against his, desperate for as much skin-to-skin contact as she could manage. When he finally kissed around her breast and took her nipple into his mouth, she wailed his name, her fingers petting his hair as he nibbled at her gently. When he moved further down her body, his lips dancing over the gentle convex swell of her stomach, she gasped and began to writhe as she realised his ultimate destination.

Hovering between her thighs, Harry hooked his fingers beneath the lace of her knickers and looked up at her, taking in her flushed face and her hair spread in tangled knots across the pillow.

“You OK with this, Liv?”

She nodded breathlessly. “Yeah. Oh, yeah.”

And then she was bare beneath him, his mouth moving to cover her centre as she shrieked and scrabbled her toes against the sheets. He licked a hard stripe along her slit, finding her arousal already shimmering against her core. She tasted tangy and slightly salty, and he blew a hot breath over her before lowering his head again to run his tongue over her folds again and again until she was almost sobbing. When he focused on her clit, she lost it completely and he moved his hands to her thighs to hold her still, her hips bucking from the mattress violently.

“Harry, please, Harry, please...”

Her voice was ragged and incoherent and he smiled against her centre at the broken sound of it. Continuing to work his lips and tongue over her - dipping into her, flicking against her clit, dragging hot lines against the sensitive soft skin of her labia - he drew one hand around to push inside, feeling her clench against his fingers tightly. He groaned as she began to beg him to be inside her.

“Not yet, Liv,” he said breathlessly. “There’s no rush.”

“I want to feel you.”

“You will.”

Harry was determined that these would be the best memories he could create for her. He couldn’t put into words what it meant to him, that she would trust him this much, that she had chosen him to be the one who first made love to her. He ignored the ache in his own groin and continued to focus his whole attention on what his mouth and fingers were doing to her. Olivia’s breathing was harsh; rough, loud pants as she gulped in air between the delectable noises she was making. His head was full of white light, as if he was drowning in her, he thought. Having her below him like this felt like an out of body experience, and he briefly wondered if he would remember any of it at all, afterwards, or if it would all seem like a chemically-induced cryo-dream.

When she tensed and shuddered and cried out as she crested her peak, her thighs tightening around his head, her fingers pulling at the short strands of his hair, he stroked her through the tremors that raced through her body and fought to steady his own breathing. After she stilled, he pulled himself up to lie next to her, his fingers pushing her hair away from her eyes, touching the silvery tracks of tears that had fallen as she had climaxed.

“Hey, Livi,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She smiled up at him dazedly. “You’re awesome, Dr Carlyle.”

Harry chuckled. “What’s with the formalities?”

“I just… liked it?” Olivia looked sheepish.

“A fantasy of yours, then?”

She blushed. “Something like that.”

“Well, how about I continue my examination?”

Harry pulled a face as Olivia laughed out loud and patted him on the head. “Please do, if it’ll stop you talking.”

He propped himself up on his arms and gazed down at her, suddenly serious. “Are you ready, Livi?”

She nodded, biting her lip, as he positioned himself between her thighs and pressed against her entrance. He could feel the heat radiating from her centre, and the slick feel of her against his skin made him take a deep breath and swallow hard as he began to push slowly forward. His eyelids fluttered shut at the first clutch of her against him, the soft warmth that enveloped him, before he forced them open to gaze at the expression on her face as he slid inside her with gentle, tender movements. Her lips crimped and her nostrils flared, inhaling sharp breaths like an exhausted racehorse. Her eyes were fixed firmly on his and grew wide as he filled her, blinking furiously as tears speckled her lashes.

“Are you okay?” Harry said, his voice soft and low.

“Yeah,” she said, and gave a deep sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just go slow.”

That wasn’t a problem. Harry was happy to drag out this moment, to relish in the way she opened to him. She felt amazing, like being wrapped in sun-dappled velvet, and she clenched him so tightly that his head began to swim. When he was finally seated fully within her, he leaned down for a long and desperate kiss, holding his body still while she adjusted to the feel of him.

After a short time, she whimpered and wriggled, and he began to shift his hips slowly, savouring in the drag and pull of her, the easy friction of her wet heat. He held himself above her on one elbow, his other hand stroking her damp fringe back from her forehead, fingers carding through her hair and playing across her scalp. She looked unravelled, her skin shining, her eyes unfocused.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, and she shuddered.

“It’s not too much,” she said, her voice strained and thin.

Harry kept the slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts, watching every twitch and flicker of her face, listening to her breathing. Olivia began to sigh, little pitchy moans which shot straight through his veins and increased the tension growing deep in his groin. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. She said his name, whisper-soft and keening, and he groaned long and low, feeling his cock twitch and throb inside her. The way she looked at him, eyes half-closed, her lips curling in a gentle smile, was turning him on so much that it took a monumental effort of self-control not to give in to his desperate urge to come.

When she met his gaze and, with a smirk, tightened her muscles around him, her walls fluttering and pulsing, he swore loudly and buried his head in her shoulder. Her giggle sent hot breath across the back of his neck, and he bit down on her soft skin, making her judder and release a flurry of stuttered noises which finally pushed him to breaking.

Taking his weight on his arms, he sped up his movements, pistoning his hips into her. She gasped and thrashed her head against the pillow, her nails raking his back, her voice cracking, her words jumbled and slurred.

“Oh, Harry, ahhh, yeah, fuck...”

He’d never heard her swear before, and it was better than music to his ears. She writhed and cursed, and dug her fingers into his waist as he lost himself in her, feeling the familiar tightness in his muscles which led him to his own crescendo. He thrust hard, once, twice, and then called her name as he tipped over the edge, his cock pulsing and releasing inside her. Warmth seemed to suffuse him, and he felt everything relax, as if his entire body had just breathed out.

Harry collapsed on the mattress beside Olivia, breathing hard, one hand reaching out to take hers. He turned his head to watch her, taking in the pinkness of her skin, the way that sweat droplets had gathered on her top lip, the dampness of her hair. She was trembling and smiling, her eyes sparkling with a lively light.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said breathlessly. “That was amazing. I’ll never forget it.”

Harry chuckled. “Me either. I’m just glad I could be what you wanted.”

“More than I could have hoped for,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m a lucky woman, being able to share this with you.”

“It’s me who’s the lucky one.” Harry smiled at her. “Unless your father ever finds out about this, that is.”

Olivia giggled. “He won’t. I’ve no desire to die from embarrassment, and my dad knowing about my sex life is definitely enough to do it.”

“Good.” Harry rolled over and kissed her lightly, just a brush of lips. “You’re welcome to stay the night, Liv. I promise it won’t get awkward and weird.”

“I know, I trust you remember,” Olivia said with a smile. “Though there is just one thing…”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I’m kind of wondering, you know…” Olivia blushed again and looked down. “What it would be like, for me to be on top.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Wow. I’ve unleashed a monster.”

Olivia slapped his shoulder playfully. “I won’t eat you alive, I promise.”

“In that case, stay the night and we’ll see what happens in the morning. I’m way past the days where I could go all night without a break.”

“Deal.”

As he flicked off the lights and curled up next to her in the dark, listening to her regular breathing and feeling the warmth radiating from her skin, Harry wondered if this hadn’t just about been the best night of his life. He knew that it wouldn’t be repeated, but at least he could set out on his new chapter carrying the fondest of memories in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia, damn you. I had PLANS.  
> Turns out, so did she, and they involve more Dr Carlyle than I thought.  
> So here it is! Enjoy!

It was her hair tickling against his nostrils that woke him up. For a moment, shards of panic shot through his body until he remembered the night before, and who exactly it was lying beside him, one arm thrown across his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. For some minutes he lay basking in the warmth of her skin, the way her breath fluttered over his throat, until the itch on his nose became too much to bear and he had to shift away from her to scratch it.

Olivia whimpered as she peeled open an eyelid and gazed up at him blearily.

“Good morning,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Morning, Dr Carlyle,” she replied, and cracked a drowsy grin. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” he said, smiling down at her. “How are you feeling?”

Olivia stretched, panther-like, pressing herself further into him. Harry felt his body respond, stiffening beneath the light cotton sheets.

“Sore,” she said with a sigh, “a bit achy. But happy. Yeah. Really happy. How about you?”

“Like the cat that’s got the cream,” Harry said.

“Ugh.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “What’s with all the metaphors?”

“Similes actually. Didn’t they teach you anything in school?”

“I only ever really paid attention in science. Anyway, similes don’t even make sense half the time. I remember when our neighbour had a baby and I swear it cried constantly. So sleeping like a baby surely means you spend most of the night awake and annoying other people? Also cats aren’t supposed to have cream, it makes them sick.”

“Smartarse.”

“Says the person who corrected my English a minute ago.”

“Touché.” Harry chuckled, enjoying the back-and-forth of comfortable conversation. It had been a long time since he’d engaged in pillow talk of any description, and this was surprisingly relaxed.

Olivia shifted again, her thigh pressing between his, letting out a low murmuring sound as she realised what condition he was in. “Remember what I asked, last night?”

Harry caught his breath as she wriggled against him. “How could I forget? But aren't you too sore?”

“Hmm.” Olivia reached down to press between her thighs and Harry stifled a groan at the thought of it. “Reckon I’ll be okay. Got to take my chances while I’ve got them, right?”

“If you’re sure,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to drop a kiss on her temple. “I’m certainly not going to say no. Last night was… amazing. You gave an old man a wonderful gift.”

“Not so much of the old,” Olivia said with a giggle. “You’re hardly a grandfather type. Besides, I’m the one who got the gift. When you’re growing up, you hear all these horror stories about how awful it is the first time and how much it hurts. Enough to put a girl off for life. But it was special, you made it wonderful. So thank you.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat and, to his mortification, his eyes begin to prickle at the naked honesty in Olivia’s face. Nobody had ever been so open and genuine with him before. He’d not really had a serious relationship since his wife left, and _that_ was best not thought about, given that he had - during the majority of their marriage and for years afterwards - felt that he couldn’t do right for doing wrong. Now, here was this pure heart, lying in his arms telling him how wonderful he had been. It was hard to take in.

“If it was wonderful, it was because of you,” he said, his voice gruff.

Olivia shook her head, her hair tickling his face again. “Nope. That was all you.”

Harry flashed her a mock-stern expression. “I don’t want to argue with you about this, Liv.”

“Well, then, just agree with me. No argument needed.”

“But you’re wrong,” Harry said. “I didn’t - mmph”

He was cut off by Olivia’s lips pressing down on his, the most effective way to silence a man, he thought. The kiss was brief, soft and light. Breaking away with a wide smile, Olivia sat up in bed, the sheets slipping off her shoulders so that Harry got a perfect view of her body in the pale morning-toned light.

“You got a towel? Could do with freshening up first.” She looked down at him, caramel hair mussed, eyes sparkling. He thought that she looked different somehow, ridiculous though that sounded. He was struck again by how beautiful she was, in a raw and effortless way.

It hit him then. _First_ , she’d said. He felt his body tremble at the thought of being able to share a handful more moments with her before they went into their long sleep. Before she’d move on, to her new role in the Initiative, and to her new life. This morning was for grasping with both hands, perhaps.

“Mind if I come with you?” He raised an eyebrow and Olivia laughed.

“Of course not. Shower big enough for two?”

“Just about, if we stand close together.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They padded through to the bathroom together, going through the motions of their morning routines as the water warmed up.

“You keep spare toothbrushes around, do you?” Olivia teased as she opened the fresh packet.

“Bought it for you, after I invited you over. You know, just in case. I like to be prepared.”

Olivia grinned at him. “I’m impressed.”

“That was easy. Good news for me.”

Olivia made an annoyed noise through a mouthful of toothpaste and slapped Harry across his backside, making him chuckle.

The shower was hot and steaming, though only Harry’s chest felt the benefit. His back pressed up against the cold tile of the wall as they squeezed into the tiny space of the cubicle. Still, he was determined that they were going to fit in together, even if he didn’t end up as clean as he’d like.

_I’ll_ _only need to shower again afterwards, anyway._

He wrapped his arms around her, letting out a rush of hot breath at how her skin felt against his, glossy and slick with the water cascading over her body. His fingertips danced down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, marvelling at how smooth and slippery she was. Her hands were on his waist, nails marking him with blunt crescents as she tilted her head back, inviting him to kiss her.

He didn’t hesitate.

God, but he could kiss her on and on, and the feel of the warm water spattering over their faces as their lips came together added to the sensory experience. She seemed to kiss him with her whole self, her entire body leaning into his, as if she wanted to melt into him, as if his body was timber and she the flames engulfing him. It was hypnotic, the way they swayed together, never separating, falling deeper and deeper into their dance of lips and tongues, the way they tasted each other. He had never known that he wanted this, never before had a single moment of impropriety around her in thought or word, and yet all it had taken was one brush of her lips and he was burning.

And, for a sinking moment, he wondered if it would be a fire that would smoulder for centuries.

He blinked the thought away, trying to centre himself in the reality of her kisses, the way her hands were travelling over his chest, down across his stomach, and, _oh_ -

Harry’s head fell back, hitting the tile with a thump, but he didn’t feel the impact or any pain. It was as if his entire being had shrunk to one point, just where her hands were, grasping and stroking. He was a mess of sensation, jagged sparks of electricity jolting through his body, the heat of her palms, the slickness of her skin sliding across his. She was hesitant and, at times, clumsy, but the water smoothed her touch and, Harry thought, just the fact it was _her_ was enough. More than enough. He tilted his head forward again to watch her expressions, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth, chest rising and falling, eyes narrowed in concentration as she explored him. She looked intense and focused, and he couldn’t hold himself back from leaning in and kissing her again, pressing her back against the cubicle wall and revelling in the caress of her tongue while her hands worked between his thighs.

It didn’t take long before the sweeping touches, the gentle squeezes and presses, began to accumulate as a low, thrumming tension deep in his groin which threatened to become all too much.

“Liv,” he said, gasping for breath in the steam-heavy air. “You’re going to have to stop, if you want to do anything else.”

She let her hands drop to her sides, smiling up at him, silvery drops of water falling from her fringe and trailing down her cheeks.

“That felt okay, then?”

Harry chuckled, his voice coming out rough and low. “Understatement of the century.”

Olivia blushed. “I’m glad. I wanted to make you feel good, like you have for me.”

“Oh, Livi,” Harry said with a sigh. “You already have.”

Her smile then was exquisite, lighting up her entire face like a beacon. The thought that it was, at least in part, due to him made something twist and coil in his stomach.

He swallowed hard to try to settle the feeling, and reached over to switch off the water, which was beginning to lose its heat.

“Want any breakfast?” he murmured into her ear as he wrapped a large, fluffy towel around her and pulled her into a hug.

Olivia shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not really hungry. I’d rather, you know, spend a bit more time on… the rest of the stuff.”

“The rest of the stuff?” He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised, feigning ignorance.

“You know what I mean.” She snorted and shook her head. “Stop teasing me.”

“Sorry.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Come on, then. Let’s go do _stuff_.”

Olivia laughed and rolled her eyes. “Stop it, Harry!”

***

She wasn’t going to get it all her own way, Harry decided, as he crawled over her naked body spread out atop his sheets, her chest rising and falling with the deep breaths she was taking, her skin washed pink from her neck to the top of her breasts.

“You said you trusted me,” Harry murmured. “How much?”

Olivia held his gaze steadily. “Ninety nine per cent.”

“Not a hundred?”

She made a low rumbling noise in the back of her throat. “I don’t trust anybody one hundred per cent.”

“Don’t blame you. So, ninety nine per cent is a lot?”

“Didn’t they teach you anything at school?”

Harry laughed aloud as he heard his own words bounced back at him. For all her introverted appearance and quiet nature, Olivia had a wicked sense of humour when she let it show. He was delighted to have seen it.

“A better question then: is ninety nine per cent enough to let me try something?”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I thought it was meant to be me running the show this morning.”

Harry smiled. “You will be. You _are_. But you need to be in the same place I’m at. Will you trust me to get you there?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Okay. Okay, then. Close your eyes.”

Olivia let her eyelids flutter closed, still smiling. Harry picked up a hand towel, folded it a couple of times, and leaned forward to wrap it around her eyes, tying it in a loose knot at the side of her head.

He ran a finger down her cheek and across her lips as she shuddered.

“Can you see?”

She snickered. “Yeah, I have magic powers which allow me to see through towels.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I actually have.” She barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “All part of my tech training. But don’t worry, they don’t work when I’m naked. Can’t see anything except the towel.”

“Good. It’s all an interstellar hitchhiker needs, after all.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry, quote from a very old book my dad used to read to me. You’d probably like it, actually.”

Olivia’s voice was deadpan. “Great, lend it to me, I’ll read it, now please stop talking and _do_ something.”

Harry looked down at her, stifling a laugh. She was wriggling on the bed beneath him, grouchy and desperate, wearing nothing but the makeshift blindfold. He guessed he probably could have picked a better towel, given that this one was adorned with old Star Trek logos and looked faintly ridiculous. Still, it did the job he needed it for, that was the main thing.

He hovered beside her, his hand not-quite grazing skin as he moved it over the shape of her, just so she could feel his warmth and the sensation of fingers brushing over the downy hairs on her body, without giving her the satisfaction of touch. She whimpered and attempted to push into him, but each time she tried he withdrew from her so that she sank back on to the bed, letting out annoyed little grumbles. Eventually, she said his name, long and drawn out, ending with a low whine.

“Something the matter?”

“For god’s sake, please touch me.”

She was quivering all over, taut and tense, her skin pebbling with gooseflesh. Harry sat back on his haunches and watched her until she began to make deep, frustrated noises. Without any warning, he leaned over and pinched her nipple firmly between his finger and thumb. Olivia squealed and arched her back, and Harry removed his hand again, leaving her panting below him, her tongue swiping across her lips.

Over the next minutes, Harry spent time working her over, leaning in to run his tongue over her breasts, her belly, the back of her knee. His fingers tapped across her collarbone, pinched her skin in soft places, dipped into her centre, stroked light ticklish lines across the bottom of her feet. Each touch was individual, separate, and he would sit back between each contact, so that she never knew where he was, where he might touch her next, whether he would stroke or nip or kiss or pinch. Her body was tight with anticipation, visibly trembling with desire.

By the time he removed the blindfold, her body was heated, her thighs slick and damp.

“Now it’s your turn.” Harry ran his hand through her hair, smoothing it down, as she gazed up at him breathlessly. “I’m all yours.”

“I…” she said, and inhaled a long shaky breath. “Harry, I...”

“It’s okay, Liv.”

Harry lay back on the mattress and guided Olivia to straddle his waist, his careful hands on her hips, stroking her skin softly with his thumbs as he shifted into position. She looked into his eyes, her gaze incandescent, shivers sweeping through her body as she began to lower herself over him.

It was like revisiting one of the wonders of the world, Harry thought, as she took him inside her. It took a bit of wriggling to catch the right angle, but then she was sliding down, her mouth falling open as she ground down on to him until her pelvis bumped against the sharp bones of his hips. He felt a tingle shoot down his spine as she involuntarily tightened her muscles around him.

“You feel so good, Livi,” he murmured, his voice shaky.

She smiled down at him. “I love having you inside me.”

“Oh, fuck, Liv. Don’t say things like that, you’ll have me losing my mind before I’m half way ready.”

“We can’t have that.”

Her smile morphed into a sly smirk as she clenched her muscles again, contracting and releasing in turn until Harry began to make low grunting noises. All the while she sat above him as still as a statue, watching his expressions, clearly enjoying the effect she could have seemingly without any effort at all.

When she began to roll her hips, he let out a long, loud sigh and his head fell back against the pillow. She was magnificent, ferocious in the intensity of her gaze, her lithe, lightly muscled frame naturally shifting into the rhythms and movement of a lover. He let her set the pace, surrendering himself to the shift and grip of her body, the noises she made, the way she gnawed at her lips and sighed each time he connected with a certain spot inside her. Her face was a wonder to behold - if she had ever doubted she was beautiful, she should look at herself as he was seeing her in this moment. Her hair flowed around her face, her eyes were bright, flickering with intense emotion, her lips pink and swollen. She was the epitome of pure, sheer abandonment to her pleasure, and he almost couldn’t bear to look at her, because these moments were creating pangs inside his chest that he didn’t want to name.

His hands slid up her sides, feeling the damp smoothness of her skin. He ran his palms over her breasts, cupping and squeezing, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She sighed and said his name, and he had to grit his teeth to keep control.

Harry knew he’d had more experienced lovers. He’d been with women who had learned all the ways to touch him, all the things that had made him dissolve into puddles of lust. But nothing, ever, had made him as desperate, as worn thin as this. Every second he watched her, every time he felt her squeeze him inside her, every single touch of her hand was enough to make him feel as if his blood was molten and his body was nothing but a mass of lit-up nerves. He wished, more than anything, to be able to take a snapshot of this moment - not just the way she looked, but the way she _felt_ , and to be able to remember it forever, as clear and as real as it was for him now.

The noises Olivia was making were sending jolts of heat straight to where their bodies were grinding together. He curled his shoulders and tilted his head so that he could see and he was almost lost at the sight of their joining, the way he could see her sinking down on to him, taking him inside, over and over.

Harry dragged his hand down her torso, curling it over the hard muscles of her midriff and the counterpoint softness of her belly, before pressing between her legs, feeling for her clit. Olivia let out a broken sigh - _aah-ah-aaah_ \- and he felt her shudder and clamp down harder. He kept the pressure up, moving his finger in steady circles, until he felt her tense and shudder, her eyes fluttering closed as she rode through her orgasm.

Not long after that, Harry felt his tenuous control break and he followed her over the precipice, his arms wrapping around her waist, his mouth on her breast.

Her knees seemed to give out then, and he gasped as he slipped out of her and she half-fell forward on to his chest, his arms automatically going around her to pull her close. He kissed her hair and felt her sigh against his neck, warm breath making him shiver. He felt overheated, sticky, and as if all his bones had been removed and replaced with wool.

Minutes passed in silence, before he felt a wet chill on his shoulder and realised that Olivia was crying.

“Liv. Livi, are you okay?”

She sniffled. “I’m fine, honest, everything’s fine.”

“You’re crying because you’re fine?”

“I just… I can’t explain it. It’s like my chest feels all swollen from the inside, and like I can’t breathe properly.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not bad, though, I promise. Just overwhelming, I think that’s what it is. That was just… the whole thing… far more than I could ever have imagined.” She pulled a bitter face. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.”

“You hardly dragged me. It’s not as if I was kicking and screaming to get away.”

“I know.” She gave him a watery smile. “It’s just, I was expecting it to be easy. You know.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“I thought we could just do this, get it out of the way, then I could go off to stasis knowing that it was an experience I’d ticked off or something, like one of those old bucket list things people used to talk about. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Like what?”

Olivia’s face crumpled and she wiped away more tears. “This isn’t fair to you, I shouldn’t have ever involved you in this. I promise, I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Livi, you still haven’t explained to me what you mean by ‘this’.”

“It felt… different, to what I was expecting I mean. Not just the physical thing, though that was so much better than I thought it would be. The other stuff, the way you made me feel inside. I’m not sure I can just forget about that. And that isn’t right, it’s not what you signed up for, I promised it would just be sex, right?”

“I think you suggested something along those lines, yes.”

“See, and now I’m landing you with all this emotional drama that you never wanted. Maybe it would be best if I just left now.”

Harry felt his own chest tighten as if constricted by steel bands. “You don’t have to go.”

She rolled away from him and sat up on the edge of the bed, reaching for her dress. “I should, though.”

“Olivia.” Harry saw her shoulders stiffen; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used her full name. “Why do you think I’d be so bothered about you feeling emotional?”

“You don’t want to deal with that.”

“Says who?” Harry reached out and ran a hand down the column of her back, feeling her tense and tremble. “Don’t assume things about me. I’ve been thinking all night about these feelings I seem to have discovered, and if I was going to be able to let go of them once you’d walked away. Are you suggesting maybe I won’t have to?”

She turned her head to look at him, her lip quivering. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that perhaps this isn’t the end of it.”

Olivia exhaled through her nose, her head dropping. “I hope not, Harry. But you know, it won’t be easy.”

He knew that; it seemed ridiculous to even think of a future together, the way things were. She was young and vibrant - he was in the latter years of his long and distinguished career, no longer the athletic young buck he used to be. They were both about to embark on the most outlandish mission possible, to travel deep into the future, to a galaxy entirely alien to everything they had ever known. Nobody knew what was going to happen, but suddenly Harry wished for something familiar when he finally opened his eyes, if he made it that far.

The entire mission was a gamble, what was another to add to the pile?

Harry gazed at the woman sitting on the edge of his bed, at the edge of his heart.

“I would wait six hundred years for you, if you’ll have me.”

Her smile was blinding.


End file.
